


to run from the wind

by Mello_McQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-01
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mello_McQueen/pseuds/Mello_McQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things you just can't outrun. (Set prior to 3.16 - No Rest For The Wicked)</p>
            </blockquote>





	to run from the wind

**Author's Note:**

> written at: August 1, 2009.

Rain splatters against the windshield; fat swollen droplets that obscure the world outside.

With a sigh, Dean reaches over and turns on the wipers, before leaning forward to look up at the rapidly darkening sky.

“Maybe we can outrun it.” He says, hopefully. Beside him, Sam leans forward and looks up too, his expression contemplative, like he’s trying to calculate how fast the hurricane is actually moving.

After a moment, he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Some things you can’t outrun, Dean.” he says, and the other pulls a face.

“‘course not,” he mutters, and starts the car.

.:.

“Maybe it’ll blow over.” Dean suggests, as they stop at a small shack-like diner. The bright, island colours of the buildings around them seem strange in contrast with the blackening sky.

Sam shrugs.

“Maybe.” He says, before wandering off to the restroom.

Dean makes another face, and sighs, pulling out a chair at a table in the back and sitting down. The waitress is at his side in seconds.

“Can I get you anything?” She asks, overly polite. Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t have any money on him, and even if he did, he doesn’t feel like eating.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and with a huff she walks off just as the door opens with a ding. “Hello, can I get-“ the woman starts again, but a firm “no” cuts her off. The voice is familiar, and Dean looks up in time to see Ruby slide into the seat across from him.

“Hey, Dean.” She says, smiling at him in a way that isn’t at all friendly. “Where’s Sam?” Dean tenses, glaring at her across the table.

“None of your business bitch.” He snaps, and her smile widens.

“That’s alright,” she says like it really is, “I’m not here to see him.” She pauses. “Nice weather we've got, huh?” Her words are conversational but her tone is mocking. “Plan on staying long?”

Dean’s eyes narrow farther. “No.” he says, because he sees no reason not too. “We’re leaving as soon as Sam’s back.”

Ruby’s eyes light up. “Running away, are you?” She asks, knowingly.

Dean doesn’t respond and she shakes her head, laughing softly. “Oh, Dean.” She says, “you can’t outrun the hurricane, anymore than you can outrun hell.” As she speaks, Ruby reaches forward and overturns Dean’s hand, prying open his fingers, she runs her own along the gun-calloused flesh, before pulling a marker out of thin air.

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t resist, as she draws an arrow down the length of his palm, stopping when the point of the arrow touches his wrist.

“You’re going down.” She says, her words are colder than her eyes.

And Dean knows, they do not lie.

.:.

When Sam returns, Ruby is long gone, and Dean is sitting there staring at his open palm with a scared and bitter expression on his face.

Upon seeing his brother, Dean hurriedly drops his hand and stands up, wiping the look away.

“Ready to go?” he asks, and Sam blinks at him, curiously, as Dean wipes his hand against the worn fabric of his jeans, before nodding.

“Yeah...but...is there something wrong?”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Yeah,” he responds sarcastically, “I hate Texas. Now can we please get the hell out off this God forsaken island?”

Sam looks like he wants to argue, but instead he just nods. “Yeah.” He says.

And they do, running with the hurricane barreling after them like a monster at their heels.


End file.
